


I'll Never Wear Your Broken Crown

by bittersweet (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:49:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bittersweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's addicted to drugs and Louis is wondering where it all went wrong. Thing is, he can't remember, because this is their life now and he can't change it. {drugaddict! harry au}</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Never Wear Your Broken Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! This is my Christmas gift to lewdis for ficmas. Hope you all enjoy! Title taken from Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons.

Harry vaguely remembers what his life was like before the addiction. It comes back in multicolored blurs of starry nights and sweet kisses. Sometimes he wakes up in tears because he had that life and wasted it, sold his soul to fuck ups and blew his cash on his next fix.

  
But in a way, he doesn't regret it, doesn't regret the few hours of feeling free and safe that came with the drugs. It's some screwed up way of feeling happy, and he'd do anything for happiness, even if that meant putting his life at risk by doing every drug you could imagine and watching his boyfriend, Louis, shatter into a million different pieces.

  
\----------------------

  
When Louis saw him taking the pills for the first time, he screamed and yelled and cussed.

  
He got home from his shift at the coffee shop early, and when Harry didn't answer his shout of "I'm home!" he knew something was off. He walked to his bedroom, shedding his coat and boots at the mat. He could see the back of Harry's head and a plastic bag full of something that looked like candy beside him.

  
"I'm home early, babe! What're you-"

  
Louis' eyes widened as he watched Harry tip his head back and swallow what he could now tell was a pill, sloshing it down with a swig of vodka.

  
Harry could see Louis out of the corner of his eye and froze, grabbing the bag of pills and pushing past him to get to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Harry! Harry, say something! _Harry, please!_ "

  
But all Louis heard were muffled sobs, the tap running, and the muffled bang that sounded like Harry banging his head against a wall.

"Say something, Harry. _Anything. please._ "

  
But Harry didn't reply.

  
\-------------------

  
That's how they end up here, and Harry's battered and broken and wrecked and Louis' trying to put him back together. Yet every time he puts a piece back where it belongs, another piece falls out and it's a neverending cycle of fix, try to mend, and break.

  
Every second day, Harry goes downtown and buy dozens of multicolored pills. When he gets home, he sits in the bed he and Louis share and downs them all at once. It's usually enough to get him through a few days, and he guesses it's some messed up way of being okay.

  
Louis still mumbles sweet nothings into his hair when he passes out on the tile floor and holds onto false hope that yeah, maybe they will be okay. False is all it is, though, because they both know all too well that this is Harry's life now. Maybe someday he'll come back to his senses and realize that yeah, he's messed up big time and that his actions were tearing Louis apart.

  
But most of the time he's on drugs and cant't even remember Louis' name, much less think about how he could fix what he had become. Sometimes, Louis just wants to let go of Harry, see if he could make it alone in the real world, living off of selling everything he owned for drugs. Maybe if he sold everything and was on the verge of being homeless, he's realize that this had to stop because he was ruining the great life he once had all those months ago.

  
They say that you're only as strong as your weakest link, and since Harry's slowly spiraling, Louis is too. They fall together, and it's beautifully heartbreaking. Louis cares so much about Harry, can't stand seeing him seeking happiness with fucking pills, of all things. Sometimes he beats himself up, because he thinks that maybe the pills are replacing him. Maybe, he thinks, he wasn't good enough, wasn't there for him, wasn't making him happy, so he resorted to pills instead. Maybe Louis had wrecked him and hadn't even noticed it.

  
When Harry's sober enough, Louis makes love to him slowly and kisses him all over and reminds him that he still loves him, despite what he's become. He promises that one day they'll be like they used to, hopelessly in love and successful and _happy_. Harry kisses Louis and thanks him for being the only person that he has, his last sliver of hope. Harry's extremely clingy and whispers a mantra of "Don't go, don't leave me, please, stay with me." and Louis promises he won't ever leave him.

  
But one day he does.

  
\-------------------

  
If he's honest, he isn't sure what causes it.

  
He thinks it's sometime after the time where Harry stumbled in his room at 5am with a pipe in his hand, or maybe the time where he hadn't had a proper night in for three weeks.

  
Louis is a crying mess, sobbing into a heap of Harry's old clothes on the bed that used to be full of kisses and days in and cuddles. Now, it's just a place that Harry comes every second day to think and breathe and pop more pills.

  
Harry pretends not to hear Louis' broken sobs, and if he does, he just turns up the volume of his headphones until the cries are drowned out and forgotten. Louis wants Harry to notice, wants Harry to know that this is what he'd caused. But Harry just ignores it, because Louis is always the emotional one, and he'll get over it eventually, right?  
But he won't. He never does. It always pains him that the light of his life was now burnt out and helpless. Memories of Harry, the bright-eyed seventeen year old, come back in flashbacks of sunkissed skin and pink lips kissing his own underneath the moonlight. Louis felt lucky to have him, overjoyed to have this precious boy with him every waking hour that he could. It was like living in those sappy romance movies, except that those usually have happy endings, but right now, Louis was in a living Hell.

  
Upon losing Harry, he'd lost himself, and he doesn't think that he'll ever forgive himself for that.

  
Louis wipes his eyes and steps out into the living room where Harry's on the couch with his headphones so loudly that Louis could sing along from four feet away. He approaches the boy and tugs on a headphone, before shouting.

  
"Get the fuck out, Harry Styles. Get out of my flat -yes, my flat. Remember when I let you move in? Or were you to drugged up to remember?- and don't come back. I don't want anything to do with you anymore, Harry. I'm done, it's done, whatever we had here is done. You gave yourself to drugs and lost me in the process. This is goodbye , Harry."

  
Harry's eyes are red-rimmed, and Louis honestly isn't sure if he's on the verge of crying or if he's just high and can't really take in what Louis just shouted at him.

  
"B-But you said you'd never leave me, Louis. Y-You promised me you'd try to save me." He says in a rough whisper. His voice sounds broken and cracked from not using it as often as he once did and it doesn't at all sound like the Harry Louis had fallen for.

  
"I can't save you, Harry. The only person that can save you is yourself. This is your life now. Can you fix it? I'm not sure, but until you do, I don't want anything to do with you." Louis says, voice somewhat softer and more comforting than before.

  
Harry stands up and dissapears into their bedroom, stuffing his things into a duffle bag. Louis sits alone on the couch, digging his fingernails into his palms to prevent himself from doing anything he'll probably regret later. Minutes later, Harry reappears, duffle bag in hand and now apparent tears streaming down his face.

He waves at Louis and mutters a quick goodbye.

"Thanks for the best year of my life, Louis Tomlinson."

  
\-------------------

Three months.

Louis' been alone and upset and angry at himself for three months straight.

  
He should probably try to move on, but he decides that hiding out in his room and wearing the old sweater that Harry left behind is better than trying to find someone that'll love him and his fears and his faults (Harry did, but he has come to the conclusion that Harry's never going to repair himself and come back).

  
He has one more year of uni left until he can start looking for work as a drama teacher, and maybe he'll have to move away to do his job. Maybe that'd be for the better. Maybe he'd forget about Harry and start a new life teaching kids that have a brighter future than he does.

  
He still works at the coffee shop. Sometimes he thinks about better times, when Harry'd stop by after a day at the bakery and order a pastry and a latte. He'd sit by the window and people-watch (more like Louis-watch), until his shift was over and they could go home. Now, every time he'd serve Harry's favorite pastry, his heart would ache a bit. Ache for himself, ache for Harry, ache for memories of a better time.

  
When he gets home, he flops down onto his bed and sulks a little (as usual). Maybe, he thinks, Harry's dead now. Maybe he overdosed. Maybe he's worrying for nothing because he's in a better place than he was before. And maybe he should be happy. If Harry does die, he hopes someone would invite him to the funeral.  
Louis basically has a cycle now. Wake up, hit the snooze button until he's certain that he'll miss work if he hits it again, go to work, walk home, and sulk in one of Harry's old sweaters. He's got it down to a science, really, and that's sad on his part but quite frankly it's the only thing he knows how to do. If he's up for it he'll listen to one of those indie mixtapes Harry'd made him and crack a smile at the memories those lyrics held.

  
The cycle repeats and repeats, and it's emotionally draining and upsetting, but Louis learns to live with the pain.

  
He thinks of Harry, wonders what he's doing now. Maybe he got back on the right track, started at uni to make a career for himself. Maybe he found love, maybe he had a flat somewhere on the other side of town that he shared with someone. It pains Louis to think about Harry finding someone, and it hurts even more if he thinks of Harry finding love and being okay, because it means that it was possible to fix, but Louis had been a prick and gotten angry at him instead of trying to help him.

  
Sometimes Louis' coworkers ask him why he doesn't smile anymore. Louis sighs and tells them that there isn't a reason to smile anymore. They just look at him, as if seeking an explanation to why he's become upset and lifeless all of a sudden, but he just blinks at them with empty eyes and gets back to work.

  
\-------------------

It takes 4 months and 13 days for Louis' life to become okay again.

  
He's sitting in his flat, sipping tea and gazing at the stars out of his window. It's past midnight, that's for sure, but he can't be bothered to check the actual time. It's friday, anyways, so he's got lots of time to do whatever the hell he's doing.

When he hears a loud bang at his door, he nearly spills his tea all over the floor. He thinks that maybe it's just someone stumbling in the hallways but then he hears a voice that he hasn't heard in months and he's torn between smiling and crying.

  
"Louis! I know you're in there...Open up..."

  
It's Harry.

  
Louis stands up on wobbly legs, and walks over to the door to open it. He's met with a seemingly cheerful Harry Styles.

  
"Harry..? What the fuck are you-"

  
Before he can even try to wrap his head around the fact that Harry's okay and alive and standing outside of his door, Harry pulls him into an embrace and clings to him like his life depended on it. Maybe it did.

  
Louis grins into Harry's neck when he notices that Harry smells like cologne and biscuits and not at all like cigarettes and marijuana and drugs Louis didn't know the name of. They stand like that for a few minutes, and Harry finally pulls back, grinning like a child that's just won a stuffed lion from the fair.

  
"You look stunning."

  
Louis blushes, because no, he really doesn't. He hasn't shaved in a few days and he's wearing sweatpants and one of Harry's sweaters and he hasn't bothered to put in contacts so he's wearing his glasses (that he hates but Harry loves) and yet somehow, when Harry compliments him, Louis believes it.

  
"W-why are you here?" Louis questions, and is taken aback when Harry pulls out a giant bag of pills.

  
Harry steps fully into the flat and nudges Louis slightly, pushing the older boy out of his way. He starts walking to the washroom, a visibly confused Louis trailing behind like a lost puppy. When they get to the washroom, Harry opens the plastic bag and starts rolling a pill between his fingers.

  
"This is nearly two months of pills, Louis. I've been clean for almost two months." Harry says, looking at Louis, who's expression has changed from confusion to pride.  
He smiles at Louis before dropping the pill into the toilet.

  
Dropping pills in the toilet probably isn't the most environmentally friendly way to dispose of them, but seeing Harry smile when the reason for his months of despair are flushed down the pipes never to be seen again, well, fuck the environment.

  
When all of the pills - all 136 of them- are flushed away and gone, Louis pulls Harry into a hug and Harry pecks him on the cheek. Harry mumbles bits and pieces of sentences into the crook of his neck, saying things like how he missed him and how it just wasn't the same and that he's willing to try if Louis is.

  
Louis nods, because maybe a second chance is all they need. This could work out, he thinks, this could be like it used to.

  
When they pull back, Harry holds Louis' hands in his own and looks him straight in the eyes.

"I think we're going to be okay, Louis."

  
This time, the hope Louis gets isn't false.


End file.
